


Forgiveness is a Hard, Hard Thing

by rebeccastceir



Series: An End. A Beginning.  - MOOD BOARD [12]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Former Scion Hanzo Shimada, Hanzo does, It is now, Light Angst, M/M, Making Up, Scion Hanzo Shimada, Sex, Smut, brief mention of noodle dragons, but no sightings, fight, how did I miss that one?, i got no regrets, not sure zen buddhism's supposed to be used this way, oh well, there's actual sex in this one guys!, this ain't one of 'em
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:46:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27724351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebeccastceir/pseuds/rebeccastceir
Summary: “Ah, I’m sorry, darlin’,” Jesse murmured, kneeling. “Can I make it up to ya?”Hanzo looked down at him consideringly.They were up on the tower, where they always went after a fight. Hanzo had come up here earlier - he did half of his cooling down up here, in the breeze. The mere habit of it was soothing. The fact that Jesse knew where to come looking for him, once he was ready to make up, was soothing too. Having Jesse on his knees…Was going a very long way as well.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, McHanzo
Series: An End. A Beginning.  - MOOD BOARD [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2002075
Comments: 19
Kudos: 88





	1. The Only Thing Harder Than Saying I'm Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> hey look! I finally managed to write a whole sex scene for these two!

“Ah, I’m sorry, darlin’,” Jesse murmured, kneeling. “Can I make it up to ya?”

Hanzo looked down at him consideringly.

They were up on the tower, where they always went after a fight. Hanzo had come up here earlier - he did half of his cooling down up here, in the breeze. The mere habit of it was soothing. The fact that Jesse knew where to come looking for him, once he was ready to make up, was soothing too. Having Jesse on his knees…

Was going a very long way as well.

“What did you have in mind?” Hanzo asked.

“Your pick, darlin’,” Jesse smiled, his voice dropping, husking a little. “You know I’ll do anythin’ for ya.”

Hanzo quirked an eyebrow. “Anything?”

Jesse knew his lines in this play - Hanzo knew he _enjoyed_ them - and his broad lips curled in a smile. “ _Anything_.”

Hanzo checked with himself to see if he was ready to forgive - though, really, he’d made the decision the moment he decided to come up here. The play that followed was their mutual benefit, because Hanzo’d never had to apologize in his _life_ , and hadn’t known how. He still had trouble sometimes, bridging the gulf between remorse and ego, when the dragons demanded tribute for his wounded pride and his own conscience told him he’d been in the wrong. This little play of theirs had been the result of a lot of trial and error, and caused more than a few of its own little fights. But it _worked_ , and until they found something that worked _better_ , they stuck to the script, and found comfort in the routine. They both knew not to say the words until they were genuinely ready.

And then they _enjoyed it_.

Hanzo took the cigarillo out of Jesse’s mouth. “Get on with it, then.”

His voice was softer than his words, though the dragons fed his ego as Jesse reached for his pants. Hanzo stuck the cigarillo end in his own mouth and sucked on it, and the dragons fed on that too, coiling into the smoke with a purr, counting it their natural habitat. He’d had to quit in his twenties, hating the way it scraped up his lungs, made his morning katas impossible, let alone his archery and hand-to-hand combat. But the dragons had missed it, and the nicotine soothed his nerves. Since Jesse had taken, without prompting, to smoking one as he calmed himself down, Hanzo had taken to stealing the end of it for himself.

Since Jesse’s mouth was busy, and all.

Jesse got his pants open, and Hanzo blew out the smoke, the dragons already demanding another hit. Jesse licked his lips, made another last check-in with Hanzo, and then leaned forward and took Hanzo’s flaccid cock in his mouth. Hanzo closed his eyes with a smile, his left hand sliding easily into -

He stopped and tugged Jesse’s hat off his head, put it on his own. It dropped a curtain of Jesse’s scent around him, mingling with the smoke of the cigarillo, and Hanzo took another deep hit, let his other hand drop into Jesse’s hair the way he wanted. He tilted his head back and blew smoke at the stars, enjoying the cool breeze across his naked chest, contrasted with the heat Jesse coaxed into his groin.

Hanzo loved this part - he loved this part even when they _weren’t_ fighting. Jesse’s tongue was magic, warm and soft against Hanzo’s foreskin. He was gentle and insistent, knew every spot that sparked pleasure, coaxed it forth as if they had all night, made climax as inevitable as the dawn. Hanzo let his fingers play through Jesse’s hair, toying with the locks, tracing idle little patterns against his scalp. They’d learned the hard way that Jesse needed this - the contact soothed him, comforted him, primal and grounding, assuring him that the attention wasn’t all one-sided, and that Hanzo’s apology was forthcoming.

Hanzo kept smoking, flicking ash off occasionally, careful to keep it away from Jesse - burning his lover when he was apologizing was both counterproductive and the very essence of bad manners - and closed his eyes, settling in. He was about half-hard now, and he found this next part very zen.

The stillness of the night, the contrast of warm and cool, faded into the background. The dragons were soothed into slumber by nicotine and smoke, taking his ego with them. In their place came more pleasant awarenesses - the smooth brightness of Jesse’s hair between his fingers, the heat of his scalp. The way Jesse’s breath puffed through his nose, feathering against Hanzo’s root. The weight of his hand against Hanzo’s hip, other fist curled in the crease of his thigh, thumb and forefinger loosely holding his cock. Jesse never rushed this part, at least not when he was apologizing. Hanzo always appreciated the time to reorient himself.

With his ego out of the way, he could see that Jesse’s logic had merit. His concern for Hanzo’s well-being in all _other_ areas was as real as the care with which he coaxed Hanzo to full strength. When they butted heads, it was not meant to _hurt_ him, anymore than the accidental scrape of teeth was meant to hurt him - it was simply an _accident_. The goal of being in a relationship was to bring mutual pleasure and protection, not pain. When he snapped at Jesse for doing his job, Hanzo caused him pain in return - thus failing in his _own_ job.

Hanzo let his fingers stroke the nape of Jesse’s neck, combing softly through the longer hair there, as he meditated on this. He had spent so long in a stressful environment, surrounded by rivals who would eat him alive - in some cases literally - that he had never even allowed himself to believe that this kind of intimacy was even _possible._ That trusting someone so fully could bring vulnerability without weakness.

In his world they had always been the same.

He rubbed his fingertips into the base of Jesse’s skull, right where it met his vertebra, cueing Jesse’s contented hum.

That he would know his lover so well as to draw forth these sounds - genuine, not faked for Hanzo’s ego - that he would take pride in knowing what pleased Jesse - would have been unthinkable to his younger self. That doing so would increase his own pleasure, drive him to do so much more, drive a feed-back loop of mutual reassurance and delight - would have been next to impossible. In Hanzo’s old world there had been only _take_. Never _give_.

What a cranky old dragon he was.

Thank the gods, he had a good teacher to correct him.

Hanzo smiled as he flicked the last of the cigarillo over the rail, and settled both hands in Jesse’s hair, combing and soothing the back of his head, one hand after the other, as Jesse coaxed him to full hardness. Hanzo could _let go_ , now.

The only thing he needed to hold onto was Jesse.

And it was, at this moment, that Jesse let go.

It had startled and unsettled Hanzo, the first few times he did it. That Jesse was _letting go_ , when Hanzo was most drawing near. Until Jesse had explained it was _practical_ \- he needed to _breathe_.

It was also emotional.

Jesse lived in fear that _this time_ it wouldn’t work. That _this time_ , Hanzo would draw away from him, that he would leave Jesse, on his knees, with nothing to show for his devotion.

To feel Hanzo turning towards him instead drove him almost to tears in relief.

Hanzo had started drawing Jesse’s forehead against his belly and caressing him, petting his hair, soothing his back, his neck, his shoulders, murmuring whatever words of appreciation he felt Jesse needed to hear.

“I love you,” Hanzo murmured now.

He had said it the first time only a few fights ago, when Jesse paused like this. The look of supreme and utter adoration on Jesse’s face had made everything before it feel profoundly foolish.

Jesse had loved him a long, long time.

Hanzo had known it.

But he hadn’t _known_ it.

The look Jesse turned on him now was the same look he had turned on Hanzo then, and Hanzo smiled as he caressed his cheek in response. He ran his fingers through the hair at Jesse’s forehead, skimming it out of his eyes, brushed a thumb down the line of his nose, cupped his cheek.

“Why are you so patient with me?” Hanzo asked softly, not in the script.

Jesse brushed his lips against Hanzo’s hand. “You know I love you, darlin’.”

“Yes, but _why_?”

Jesse softly shook his head. “Don’t think there _is_ a why. Jus’ _do_.”

Hanzo sighed a breath he didn’t know he held, relief singing through his chest.

“Wha’s that look?” Jesse asked, hands tightening around Hanzo’s legs.

Hanzo had to think. “I think…I think I was afraid… that if… if it was something I said, or that I did… that you would _stop_ loving me if it were gone.”

Jesse shook his head, fingers skimming the backs of Hanzo’s thighs. “Never gonna happen, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I love you cuz you’re _you_. All you gotta do is _be_ you. That’s all I want.”

“Even if I’m a grouchy old dragon?”

Jesse chuckled. “I happen to _like_ grouchy ol’ dragons, sugar. Case you can’t tell.” He pecked a kiss against Hanzo’s stomach. “’M kinda likin’ this softened-up one, I gotta admit.” Another kiss, soft lips against his skin. “But I liked the grouchy ‘un first.”

“I like grouchy cowboys,” Hanzo admitted, smiling, still playing with his hair.

“I see any, I’ll tell ‘em.”

Hanzo scowled playfully and gave his hair a sharp tug.

Jesse chuckled and pressed more kisses to his stomach.

“You are what y’are, sugar,” he said eventually. “None of us c’n change it. ‘N I’m not so sure I would. What y’are brought you _here_.” He looked up. “I wouldn’t wanna miss this.”

“Did I ever tell you I love you?”

Jesse brought a hand around and tugged on his ear. “Vaguely remember hearin’ it.”

“Oh, what did I do to _deserve_ you?” Hanzo laughed, ruffling his hair, feeling his eyes tearing up.

“Hell, sugar!” Jesse laughed too, not quite able to look him in the eye without his own spilling over. “Y’ ask me that, we’ll be here all night!”

Hanzo leaned down and kissed his mouth.

Jesse peppered his belly with more kisses, took a playful nip when he had himself pulled back under control. “Now.” He arms squeezed, his hands running in playful places. “You ready for some fireworks?”

“Fireworks?” Hanzo repeated. They were so wildly off-script it didn’t even matter anymore. “No one told me to expect fireworks.”

Jesse’s eyebrows wiggled. “Got somethin’ I wanna try.”

Hanzo laughed, lighter this time. “Go ahead,” he gave permission. And then, because he couldn’t resist teasing him, now that he knew how: “Impress me, cow man.”

Jesse eyes sparkled with the dare. He moved to his right, until Hanzo’s erection came out of the crook of his neck, where it had been nestled, warm, but out of his way, and then he moved down, until it was level with his mouth. Jesse stuck his tongue out against the base, and then turned his head, licking a hot, wet stripe up the underside, out to the head. Then he smoothly moved his own head out and around and took it in.

He worked it liked a lollipop, like Hanzo had seen him work popsicles and suckers back when they first met, working out his oral fixation in ways that had tormented Hanzo’s imagination _long_ before he’d been ready to admit he wanted Jesse to work them out on his cock. Now that they were together, it was always as fabulous as he’d imagined. He closed his eyes and held on.

This was the part of zen he enjoyed: when feeling became thought again, only thought on a deeper level, with a deeper understanding.

The _feel_ of Jesse’s hot mouth, the _feel_ of being stroked and caressed, brought with it the acknowledgment that it was a fine, fine thing, having all of _Jesse McCree’s_ attention focused on him. The possessor of Deadeye, the wielder of Peacekeeper, Jesse was a man of morals, of honor and loyalty. Jesse had come to his credo late, but it had been forged in fire and blood - it had been tested and proven. His loyalty was legend - not absolute, not unquestioned, but hard-won, and then hard-shaken.

The _feel_ of his tongue, warm and soft, licking and caressing him, the way it turned pointy and hard, driving up the vein into the tip - the way he managed to do both - to _be_ both - had herded Hanzo away from his solitude, his unhealthy isolation, as surely as a cattle dog chased strays.

Pleasure sparked in Hanzo’s gut as Jesse’s hand reached into his pants and cupped his balls, tugging them lightly. He gasped and panted, seeing sparks behind his eyes, and he held onto Jesse’s shoulders as he felt his knees wobble. Felt Jesse steady him.

“Hold on, sugar,” Jesse murmured, drawing back enough to speak. “I gotcha.”

Hanzo curled a hand around his neck, into his hair.

He _trusted_ Jesse in this. Trusted him as he did in the field. Trusted him as he did in all things, even when it was so very, very _har-_

He whimpered as Jesse plunged to the base, his breath puffing against Hanzo’s root like the breath of another dragon, cried out as Jesse swallowed around his tip, tongue rippling along his length, squeezing at the back of his throat.

Jesse’s free hand dropped to Hanzo’s knee, found the sensitive inner thigh, the nerve buried in the crease of muscle, and drove a thumb against it, along it, driving it upward into his groin until Hanzo’s leg was shaking and his pleasure was high and keening. The hand holding his balls let go, wrapped around his hips, holding him steady as the other thumb dropped into his knee and found the nerve again, and Hanzo’s grip tightened in Jesse’s hair and in his shirt.

“You -” Hanzo whimpered “- are - a _tease!_ ”

Jesse broke suction enough to _laugh_ , to breathe before he started up again, one arm still holding Hanzo’s hips, preventing him from thrusting, the other dropping to his knee. Only this time, when he got to the top, he squirmed that hand into Hanzo’s pants, making the journey part of the show, knuckles bumping and brushing his balls, fingers skimming his perineum, until Hanzo was a quivering mess.

The only person who took him apart like this was Jesse.

The only person who put him back together was Jesse, too.

Hanzo clung to him in sex, and in life, because in both, Jesse made weaknesses feel like pleasures, and turned pleasures into strengths.

When Hanzo came, as inevitably as the dawn, he felt brighter than a supernova.

When he faded into himself, he was straddling Jesse’s lap, Jesse’s strong arms around him, Hanzo’s own around Jesse, face buried in his neck, in his scent.

“I’m sorry,” Hanzo murmured. “I’m sorry I doubted you. I’m sorry I fought. I know you were just looking out for me. I _am_ trying to get better at this.”

“Oh, sugar,” Jesse soothed, arms around him, rocking him. “I know.” He rocked for a few more moments. “I think this ‘un’s my fault,” he admitted. “I hit yer blind spot. Didn’t wait to see if you were ready t’ talk or not.”

Hanzo nuzzled further into his neck and kissed him, two or three places that he knew Jesse liked. “Well,” he murmured, “since you apologized so beautifully, I think it only fair I reciprocate.”

“Oh, sugar,” Jesse sighed. “That’d be real great. I think the only thing harder’n sayin’ I’m sorry is this baseball bat I got in m’ pants.”

Hanzo laughed so hard he _cried_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe I'll write the other half of this from Jesse's perspective
> 
> no, don't ask me what they fought about. they wouldn't say.


	2. Superior Human Being

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe relationships generally, the thought came to Hanzo, were like sex - maybe it was okay that giving pleasure to Jesse gave him pleasure too? Maybe that didn’t mean that he was doing it wrong - maybe it meant he was doing it right? Maybe, just maybe, if he stopped keeping score, the score would even itself out? Maybe if he stopped thinking that he couldn’t keep up, he’d actually be able to keep up? Could it hurt to try that, just a little bit?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look! It has another chapter!

Hanzo’s office in Hanamura had been a thing of beauty and power, tastefully decorated, with relics from his clan’s ninja past, an old longbow, a set of Hanzo’s personal katana and wakizashi, the most modern conveniences, a tasteful shrine to Hachiman - tutelary deity of both war and education - and a deceptively comfy chair that slowly and frighteningly insinuated that Hanzo would use everything in the room against whoever opposed him. He had run Shimada Corp. from that office. He had run the Shimada yakuza from there, too. And when he got annoyed with either, he swiveled around to his full-length windows, and enjoyed the glorious views over downtown Hanamura and the thousands of cherry trees.

Hanzo loved that office. He loved everything about it, from the view to the power.

It was the only thing he missed from his old life.

Looking back on it, the only thing that was missing _from_ it was what he had now:

Jesse’s cock up his ass, Jesse’s face buried in his shoulder, leaving love bites and bruises across his skin, hands roaming everything from his knees to his collarbones, while Hanzo held all the power for getting them both off.

Hanzo would’ve given quite a bit to be able to go back and ride Jesse in that chair while his clan elders were forced to watch.

He knew that, technically, him servicing Jesse - with Jesse bent over the desk, perhaps - would’ve been considered more powerful, more masculine, more _traditional_. But riding another man’s cock like a throne appealed to everything arrogant in Hanzo. It made the statement that he had so much power he could take a lesser position and _still_ make it one of authority. And doing so in front of the Shadow Council would’ve had them absolutely _slobbering_ with outrage.

Hanzo would’ve done it purely for the outrage.

Instead they were tucked into their room at the Watchpoint, with no one the wiser.

He leaned his head back against Jesse’s and curled an arm back to run fingers through his hair. “Still good for you?”

Jesse gave a little “hmmfph” that meant “all higher brain functions have stopped working, please continue.”

Hanzo grinned and kissed his temple, got a teeth-sucking kiss against his neck in return. Both of Jesse’s hands ran central - one to stroke Hanzo’s cock, the other to play with his balls. Hanzo gave a few appreciative rolling thrusts into Jesse’s hands, making sure to attend Jesse’s cock on the backstroke.

This was the second part of their apology play.

Hanzo sucked at apologies, so Jesse always broke the ice first. And in acknowledgment of his skills as a superior human being, Hanzo made sure to repay him with mind-blowing sex. Since Jesse always got him off during his part of the apology, and Hanzo needed time to refresh, he _also_ made sure his part of the apology lasted as long as possible.

So far, he’d got no complaints.

Jesse’s hands skimmed back up, one over Hanzo’s stomach, one up to his clavicles, holding him almost delicately, while his soft, hot lips skimmed the back of Hanzo’s neck. Hanzo wasn’t rocking seriously yet - he was still in the “melt Jesse’s brain out of his ears” stage - and he let his hips stay loose and somewhat erratic. The intent wasn’t to drive Jesse towards the finish line yet, merely reduce his brain to mush and keep it there. With Hanzo’s back tucked against his chest, Jesse could reach everything he liked, while Hanzo took all the responsibility of satisfying him. Hanzo liked to switch up his part of the play - Jesse always gave him head, and Hanzo considered his devastating tongue as essential to the process as the apologies themselves - but Hanzo was _just_ insecure enough about his own skills as a relationship partner to put real work into his half. Not that he thought Jesse wasn’t putting real work into _his_ -

“Thinking,” Jesse reprimanded softly, his fingers grazing across Hanzo’s chest to play with his nipples.

Hanzo didn’t know how he did it, but Jesse always knew when his mind wandered during this part, when his insecurities -

“Stop,” Jesse chided again.

Hanzo leaned his head back against Jesse’s shoulder, and Jesse’s arms tightened around him, giving kisses up his jaw and nibbles on his ear.

“D’you need to pause?” Jesse murmured.

Superior human being.

“Same old doubts,” Hanzo murmured, sliding a hand back to hold Jesse’s head again, even as he stilled his hips. Jesse’s cock was still so beautifully hard and hot up inside him - he took a moment to appreciate that. It made him so horny and desperate just _sitting there._ He couldn’t be blamed, could he, for wanting to ride it in the Shadow Council, claiming every last inch of Jesse for himself? If he’d had known Jesse back then - okay, they would’ve hated each other, Hanzo had to admit, but he would’ve just as happily hate-fucked him, if it meant owning Jesse in some way. He would have been unable to resist - the desire to bend as powerful a man as Jesse, someone as strong-willed… Okay, he could see why the Shadow Council would’ve hated this position - his back to Jesse, all the weapons in the room…

“Dis-traaac-tehhd…” Jesse sang in his ear.

Hanzo breathed a laugh. “Just thinking about doing this in Hanamura.”

“Did you?”

“Never. But _gods_ ,” he sighed, nuzzling into Jesse, “does the idea appeal. Riding you in my office chair, rubbing my council’s noses in an affair with a Blackwatch agent -”

“Would’ve turned them against you as badly as Genji.”

Hanzo snorted. “All they had to do was _try_ ,” he growled. “They never would’ve left the building.” All of his agents had been _personally_ loyal to him, not just as family or professionals. He would’ve made an exception for Jesse, won him over eventually…. Or he would’ve tied him to the chair.

Either way had its appeal.

“Your mind just wandered again,” Jesse huffed.

“Pleasantly,” Hanzo snickered. “Thinking of all the things I would’ve done to you back then.”

Jesse kissed his jaw. “Think of all the things you can do to me _now_. All the things you’re _in the middle_ of doing to me now.”

Hanzo closed his eyes. “You’re right.”

Not for the first time, he wished the Watchpoint actually had a psychiatrist. Zenyatta had wisdom of course, and several of the women were in long-term relationships, but there was nothing quite as comforting as walking into a complete stranger’s office and admitting “hello, I have relationship vulnerability issues due to my father’s emotionally constipated parenting and my clan’s insistence I murder my absolutely normal teenage brother.” Just once, it would be nice for someone to _acknowledge_ that Hanzo’s life had been completely batshit.

“Your life was batshit,” Jesse said.

Hanzo’s eyes opened. “I _know_ you’re not psychic…”

Jesse kissed his cheek again, still holding him tight. “Ain’t a leap, darlin’. You're thinkin' about Hanamura, that leads to thinkin’ about your past, that leads to feelin’ guilty, that leads to wishful thinkin’, that leads to that great big sigh…” He trailed off. His arms tightened, and he kissed the nape of Hanzo’s neck again. “But you know the rules.”

No talking or even thinking about outside stuff when they were apologizing. This time was purely about _them_.

Hanzo sighed again. “You’re right, of course.”

He knelt up, pulling himself gently off Jesse’s cock, and turned to face him.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

Jesse’s mouth twisted. “We don’t _deserve_ other human bein’s, sugar. That’s not how it works.”

Hanzo nodded. They’d had this conversation before too. It didn’t stop his insecurities from kicking up. “This wouldn’t have even been an issue for me in Hanamura,” he admitted.

“Well, in Hanamura we wouldn’t _exactly_ have had a relationship,” Jesse said, brushing Hanzo’s long, dark hair out of his face. “You woulda been the boss, and I woulda been your toy, and you wouldn’ta cared.”

It was so eerily similar to what Hanzo had been thinking - minus all the sexy spin - that Hanzo felt another stab of guilt.

Jesse kept a hand on him, still rubbing and caressing. “Spill.”

“I worry,” Hanzo admitted quietly. “I worry sometimes - that I’m broken. That you’ll decide I’m not worth the effort.” His vision went watery, and he kept his eyes on Jesse’s chest, not really trusting himself to look anywhere else.

Jesse pulled him against his chest, kissing the top of his head. They’d had fights about this, too. Not that it helped. Words - in either English or Japanese - didn’t adequately explain how absolutely essential Jesse was to Hanzo’s rebuilt life, to the way he saw himself, and his stability in it. Hanzo wasn’t entirely certain it was a _good_ thing, to have Jesse that central. It felt a little too much like giving someone else his power. But he didn’t know how to take it back without treating Jesse like some kind of subordinate - and they’d already had an entire lifetime’s worth of fights about that.

Hanzo heard the click of a bottle cap being closed, and a few moments later felt Jesse’s warm hand on his cock. Hanzo’s shoulders stiffened, and he sat back, frowning. “What are you doing?”

“Givin’ ya a lil hand,” Jesse winked, smiling gently.

“But this is supposed to be _my_ -”

Jesse shook his head. “It don’t work like that either, sugar. Relationships are give-and-take, but it can’t be divided all fifty-fifty. It ain’t like checkin’ off stuff on a list. An’ frankly I don’t _want_ it if you’re gonna treat it like a paycheck.”

Hanzo closed his eyes as Jesse caressed him, hands drawing heat back into his groin, sending pleasure running through his brain.

“That’s it,” Jesse soothed, his voice deep and comforting. Hanzo’s hands found Jesse’s shoulders, just holding himself steady, as Jesse’s right hand slid down to cup his balls, massaging them, while his left hand held his shaft, thumb idly stroking and circling the tip. Hanzo shivered when a nail lightly scraped across his slit.

“Jesse,” Hanzo pleaded, the long bow of his lips dropping open. “I need you.”

“Tell me how, darlin’,” Jesse purred.

“Need you,” he whimpered. “Inside me.”

“You know where I am,” Jesse invited.

Hanzo crowded him back against the headboard and waited until Jesse got his legs straightened out in front of him, then mounted him again. He waited until he was fully seated before lifting his eyes to Jesse’s, vulnerability and pleasure in equal measures.

Jesse smiled, raising a thumb to his cheek. “Now _that’s_ the look I like.”

Hanzo nodded quietly. He forced himself to look inward, to relax a portion of his self-doubts. It was difficult - he felt anxiety and inadequacy flaring up again, in equal measures. But he took a deep breath and swallowed hard, and made himself move past them. Made his hips move, stroking Jesse’s beautifully hard, hot cock with his body. Maybe relationships generally, the thought came to him, were like sex - maybe it was _okay_ that giving pleasure to Jesse gave him pleasure too? Maybe that didn’t mean that he was doing it wrong - maybe it meant he was doing it _right?_ Maybe, maybe, if he _stopped keeping score_ , the score would even itself out? Maybe if he stopped thinking that he couldn’t keep up, he’d actually be able to keep up? Could it hurt to try that, just a little bit?

The moment he embraced that thought, however slightly, he felt something in his gut relax. His hips instantly got a little swingier, and he gasped as he felt Jesse’s cock brush his sweet spot.

“Oh, yeah,” Jesse moaned, eyes dipping shut. “Oh, that’s the good stuff, sugar.”

Hanzo held onto Jesse’s shoulders and kept rocking, swaying. The more he grabbed onto the idea of making sure they were _both_ happy and having fun, the more fun it was. He realized he could _tell_ , by little breath hitches and moans, by the tightening of his thighs, when Jesse was getting close, and Hanzo was so in thrall to the soft glory of it that he tightened up instinctively on a thrust, and felt his own body rolling as Jesse came. Hanzo didn’t even realize he himself was that close until Jesse’s cock shuddered on the final thrust, and suddenly Hanzo was gasping too, crying out, his brain blowing quietly for the second time that night. His vision cleared almost instantly, while his brain continued swimming in a deep sea soup of endorphins, and he sat and marveled quietly at the blissed-out look on Jesse’s face.

Jesse came around more slowly. When he did, he smiled sleepily at him. “Wazzat good for you, sugar?”

“Yes.” He felt his own smile deepening. “Yes, that was good for me, too.”

In more ways than one.

Hanzo slid his arms around Jesse’s waist and cuddled in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They still won't tell me what they fought about. *le sigh*


End file.
